


Twice Before You Go

by JazWrites



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Love Triangles, Multi, Other, References to Depression, Romance, Sex, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23178799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazWrites/pseuds/JazWrites
Summary: Shane wants to pretend mundane is good enough. But life has other ideas.
Relationships: Emily/Shane (Stardew Valley), Lewis/Marnie (Stardew Valley), Penny/Sam (Stardew Valley), Sam/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Shane (Stardew Valley)/Original Female Character(s), Shane/Female Player (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 61





	1. The Beginning

Green. 

Shane _hated_ the color green. He knew that when he no longer felt winter’s sharp chill draped across his shoulders, when the snow that once crunched underneath his feet began to melt away, it would be everywhere. The trees would flourish with fat green leaves and blossoming buds, the cows would relish the pastures that would grow thick with their feed, and green would surround him with its cloying, so called promise of a new start. And now it looked down at him, eyes that were a wave of deep sage flecked with specks of amber, their corners crinkled with concern. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Green.” Shane mumbled angrily as he lay sprawled on the hard cobblestone in front of the Saloon. One drink had turned into too many and the world had spun as he had made his way out through the heavy wooden doors. And as he had turned to make his way down the path that would lead him to Marnie’s, Shane had felt his body collide with another’s. The impact had been too much for his fuzzy brain to handle and he had gone tumbling down. 

“Do you need me to call someone?” 

The voice now sounded even more concerned. Surprise flashed dully through his warm haze of beer as he stared blankly up at the cause of his current predicament. A young woman stood there, pale as milk and a cascade of dark curls piled on top of her head, looking at him with those worried, green eyes. Shane didn’t have a clue who she was, which was rare for a town like this, and all he wanted was for her to look away. He didn’t like strangers, much less ones who trampled him, and he liked being looked at even less. 

“M’fine.” Shane muttered, realizing he was still laying on the ground. He made his way to his feet slowly, ignoring the low ache that had begun to build in his back.

“You sure you don’t need me to get someone?” The woman asked, biting her lower lip and taking a step towards him. 

“I said I’m fine.” Shane said shortly, dusting the dirt off his clothes. She pulled back immediately, concern slowly leaving the pools of green and being replaced with uncertainty. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” She replied, her doubt evident.

“You do that.”

Shane turned away from her, wobbling slightly on his traitorous feet. When he was confident enough that they would not fail him again, he began to walk once more down the stone path that led to Cindersap. The small prickle on the back of his neck told him he was still being watched by those eyes, the piercing green-gold-whatever they were. He refused to turn around, the slow haze of the pale ale still clouding his mind with that comfortable blanket of numbness. He let it carry him all the way down the long walk to the ranch. He let it wrap around him as he kicked off his dirty sneakers, stripped himself of the beaten Joja uniform and slipped into his bed. It was only when Shane closed his eyes, sleep tugging at the corners of his mind, that he saw the flash of gold-green again.

\--

Harlow opened the creaky door of the farm house, eyes adjusting to the darkness as the only source of light was a small strip of moonlight that came through the window. She wrestled out of her boots, tossing them into a corner of the room, and padded over to the small bed that was now hers. Not even bothering to remove any of her clothing, she threw herself down and buried her face in the pillow. 

“What am I doing here?” She murmured to herself, body aching with the weight of just how much her world had changed in less than 24 hours. 

Pelican Town was nothing like what she had remembered. Her childhood was filled with memories of summers spent with Grandpa, getting lost in fields of corn and learning to milk bursting cows. The place had been green in her memories, alive with the bustle of cheery townsfolk, bright flowers wherever she turned and drippy ice cream that she had been granted whenever she wanted. Harlow remembered the hot days, where sweat pooled in her brow as she chased after the horses, helped Grandpa water his seeds and bring them to life. They were some of her happiest memories, the feeling of aliveness thrumming through her in a way that slowly dwindled as she turned 15 and her parents decided that she had better things to do with her summers. 

It was only letters from her grandfather that kept the memories burning in the back of her brain, tucked away behind school and societal obligations, but they were still not enough to bring her back. Even when she grew up, old enough to be on her own, the warm reminders and scrawled words were not enough to bring her back. She made excuses in her mind, the drive being too far and her life being too busy, and the letters themselves eventually stopped. 

It had been a week after her 23rd birthday, a night spent clinking champagne flutes and spinning on a neon-lit dance floor, that she received the call. 

_\--_

_Harlow tapped her fingers against the wooden desk, eyes trained on the clock that would soon read the magic number releasing her from the doldrum of Joja Corp. The gray computer in front of her had the latest expense report flashing across the screen and she knew two more would soon follow. Her eyes burned with the tiredness that came from staring at the screen all day, the numbers melding together to form a jumble that would soon be unreadable. Being tucked away in her little dusty cubicle, she could hear the clicking of keyboards from her colleagues, the murmur of muted conversations that repeated the same mundane words she no longer wanted to hear. When the little digital clock finally flashed red with 5 o’clock, Harlow gathered her measly belongings as quickly as she could, shut off the numbers on the computer and made her way out of the door._

_She burst into an alive Zuzu City, all concrete and grime. The promise of a hot bowl of ramen was waiting for her at home, when her cell phone began to buzz against her hip._

_“Hello?”_

_“Hello, Harlow.” Her mother’s tone, usually sharp, was quiet and without any bite. It was the first sign that something was wrong._

_Only a few moments later, phone placed back inside her pocket, Harlow found an empty bench to sit down on. She sat on her shaking hands, her mother’s words echoing. He was gone. Alone, surrounded by the beep of medical machines, in Pelican Town’s only hospital. Gone._

\--

_“And should the farm be restored to its former glory, my family shall prosper and reap its rewards. However should, after three years, no one of my blood take up this challenge and succeed, the farm will be left to the residents of Pelican Town.”_

_Harlow couldn’t look at her mother’s face. The rest of her family sat there, stony-faced, as the sweaty lawyer in front of them mopped his brow and read her grandfather’s will. She knew one of them would break their silence soon, unable to help but scoff at what she knew they would consider the ridiculous requests made by her grandfather at the very end._

_“Well, this is just absurd!”_

_Aunt Helen. She should have known. Her aunt, with her matching suit and blazer, hands clenching around the latest designer handbag, was known for her voracity._

_“I agree.” Harlow’s mother said quietly._

_“What did he expect? One of us to pick up our lives and move to his dusty little town?” Helen rambled on, her fury palpable. “Let’s just sell the damn thing and move on!”_

_Other members of her family began to murmur in unison, agreement in their tones. Harlow sank further down in her chair, as the voices got louder and the lawyer became sweatier, trying her hardest to tune out their voices._

_“Unfortunately, your father’s requests are very clear,” The lawyer tried to explain, looking down at the paper instead of Helen’s flashing eyes. “He intended for one of his family members to take up the farm in his stead.”_

_“Absurd.” Helen repeated angrily._

_“Will any of you take up this cause?” The lawyer said, in a rushed and pleading tone. The murmur died down suddenly and no one looked at each other. “No one?”_

_The silence was deafening. Out of the corner of her eye, Harlow saw a small plant on the desk of the lawyer. It was an orchid, lush and growing out of a thicket of green leaves. Green. She remembered wide pastures, the smell of hay and tasted ice cream on her tongue._

_“I’ll do it.”_

_Everyone turned to look at her. Her cheeks burned hotly but Harlow avoided their stares and rose her chin up in defiance. The lawyer turned to her with relief, Aunt Helen was spewing more of her venom, and all Harlow could think about was green._

_\--_


	2. On the Comedown

Harlow awoke suddenly and sat up. For a moment, she panicked, not recognizing the firm bed she lay on and the still-dark room that felt small enough to close in on her. After an inhale made the woodsy smell of pine flood her nose and her eyes accustomed to the darkness of the room, she remembered where she was. She wasn’t in her grey room anymore, all cracked and grimy, no longer woken up by the morning honks of Zuzu City traffic. She wasn’t in Zuzu City at all anymore.

She stretched out, the crack of her limbs making her groan as she glanced at the dingy clock next to her. 5:00 am, too early for any sane being to be out of bed, and yet her mind was sharp like a blade, renewed from the short, yet best sleep she’d had in a very long time.

Making her way into the small bathroom that was adjacent from her bed, she made short work of her shower, wishing she had more time to relish under the cascade of hot water, and brushed her teeth at the same rapid pace. Spitting out the mint foam and swiping at the corner of her mouth, Harlow piled her curls on top of her head in their usual fashion. From the tiny and only closet in the house, she threw on a pair of sturdy old jeans, one of Grandpa’s old flannels and slipped on her boots.

After another quick glance at the old clock - 5:30 am - she nodded in satisfaction. The promise of a new day had set a fire in her that she wasn’t aware had even existed, hot and flickering and full of intent. That traitorous little voice in the back of her brain, the one that sounded suspiciously like her Aunt Helen, had whispered nothing but venom since the bus had rolled into the dusty road of Pelican Town. You can’t do this had become a mantra in her mind, had fed into the insomnia that had led her to walk around aimlessly last night, bumping into unsuspecting men. But today, it could fuck right off. She was not going to let her mind get the better of her.

Throwing open the door with renowned determination, Harlow stopped short. There was a man on her porch, moustached and fiddling with a green cap on his head, who smiled brightly when he saw her.

“You must be Harlow!” He exclaimed, holding out a rough hand. “Apologies for the hour, I just couldn’t wait to meet you!”

“That’s me.” She said tentatively, reaching out to shake.

“I am Mayor Lewis, at your service,” He replied proudly, drawing himself up. “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown!”

Harlow smiled at him, unsure of who he was but unwilling to be rude. She didn’t remember Lewis at all, but he seemed pleased to see her and who was she to turn down a friendly face. He spoke for a few minutes, going on about memories with Grandpa that she could only respond to with a polite nod, until he finally brought up the farm.

“As you can see, after your grandfather was bedridden, well…”

For the first time, Lewis faltered as he waved a hand behind him to the overgrown fields. There were rocks and wood and weeds everywhere, as the fields that had once housed beautiful crops of corn and potatoes were now overrun with debris and trees that grew in no real pattern. It was nothing like the farm she remembered.

“It’s a mess,” Harlow said honestly, giving the mayor a tiny smile. “It’s okay, you can say it.”

Lewis laughed with only minimal discomfort. “You have quite a job ahead of you.”

And wasn’t that the understatement of the century. The mayor continued to give her a run down of the workings of the town, told her where she could find the general store, mentioned names she was sure she wouldn’t remember, going on and on until he finally shoved a small packet of seeds into her hands and was off with a final wave of his cap. Harlow attempted to squash down the flutter of anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her as she made her way to the fields at last, an old rucksack carrying her grandfather’s old tools slung across her back. She gazed across the field, which now looked endless, and tightened the band that held her curls in place. She was going to be able to do this. She would do this.

\--

Harlow could decidedly not do this. The sun, which was blessedly going down, had burned the back of her neck as she had swung the heavy axe over her head with arms that, after months of sitting at a Joja desk, were too weak to keep up. She had cut herself twice using the scythe, whacking away at the weeds that seemed to spring up wherever she looked, until she had enough room to till the soil into something workable. Back aching, she planted the seeds the mayor had given her, watered each square carefully and sat in the dirt once it had been done.

How in Yoba’s name was she going to be able to do this on her own? Her bones already felt like lead, and yet there was still so much to be cleared away, so much to be planted. Aunt Helen’s voice cackled like a banshee in her mind, you can’t do this you can’t do this, and Harlow wanted nothing more than to shut her up. She looked at the rows of parsnip seeds she had planted that had taken up the better part of her day, and decided that was all she could handle for the day. What she needed now was a drink.

Grandpa had always gone down to the Stardrop Saloon after work, she remembered, content to mingle with the locals he called friends and guzzle down too much local ale. Every morning, she would hear the latest story about someone or another, a name that she couldn’t connect to a face, but that her childhood self would delight in anyway, seeing the way her Grandpa’s face would light up when he spoke about them. Harlow’s throat tightened at the memory, seeing his face, wanting nothing more than to shove the regret in one of the corners of her mind, and jumped to her feet.

“A break,” She muttered to herself, tossing her tools against the side of the house. “Just a small break.”

Wiping her soiled hands on her jeans, Harlow made her way back inside. She stripped away the clothes that were muddy with dirt, tossing them into the hamper, and quickly slipped on one of the few dresses she had brought with her from Zuzu. It was a simple number, cotton fresh and white, and would keep her cool, exactly what she needed after spending the majority of the day with drops of sweat running down the small of her back. Satisfied with her appearance, Harlow grabbed the rucksack that held the few measly coins she’d brought with her and walked out of the door.

\--

“I’ll be back!” Shane called out behind him, letting the door slam before either Marnie or Jas could respond. Sure, leaving right after dinner was probably too early to head to the Saloon but that had never stopped him before. Saturdays were usually spent playing with Jas, making up for the weekdays where he barely had the time or the energy to, letting himself to pretend to be a princess or an alien or whatever new idea the little girl was obsessing over. It was only until the itch of the drink made his knees jitter, that he could no longer ignore the pull that would lead him in the direction of the town square.

Spring was unbearable, as usual. Flowers everywhere, making his nose itch, couples that couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, and townsfolk that finally made their way out of their homes now that the chill of winter was finally gone. Spring meant people were looking, at each other and at the world, and Shane found it harder to make himself sink in the shadows when he just couldn’t find any. At least the Stardrop Saloon had never failed him. There, he could sit in his usual back table, tucked away from the rest of the crowd with a cold one in his grasp, a corner where the other residents of Pelican Town could ignore him comfortably and without guilt.

Shane had been here for three years and still had yet to have a conversation with any of them that lasted more than a few words. He liked it that way. He didn’t bother them and no one bothered him. And even if loneliness reared its ugly head sometimes, aching and grey in a way that made him want to stay in bed all day, well the solution was always found at the bottom of a bottle. It was the only way he knew to make them go away, those thoughts that darkened his mood and turned blacker and blacker the longer he let them run. Chasing them down with beer after beer until they were muffled enough not to be heard. And when they came back again the next day, he would do it again and again.

He quickened his pace, the turn of his thoughts making the itch worsen, and was pathetically glad to see the Saloon looming in the distance. In his hurry, he didn’t see the figure approaching to his left until it was too late.

BANG.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He hadn’t fallen this time, thankfully, and glared as he held a hand up to his pounding head. When he noticed the other person, the one who had decided it had been a good idea to not watch where they were going, his glare only intensified. Fucking hell, Shane thought to himself angrily, staring at the girl from last night. Not you again.

His memory from last night, all washed out and smoky from the beer, hadn’t been entirely erased and the only thing he had remembered clearly, and bitterly, was what a fool he had made of himself in front of this stranger, falling at her feet and spouting off colors. This time was different, however, when he saw she also held a hand to her head, all of the concern from last night being replaced with a death stare to match his.

“Are we making this a habit now?” She asked him sharply, placing her other pale hand on her hip. She was wearing a dress this time, white cotton clinging to her waist, a cascade of dark bouncy curls covering even paler shoulders. The sun was still setting, casting an orange glow everywhere it touched, and it made flecks in her eyes, all narrowed and pissed off, even more pronounced.

“Leave me alone.” He mumbled, unsure and unable to say anything else, hating himself a little for it, pushing past her and making his way into the bar. He nestled into his corner and didn’t even have to say a word to Emily, the blue haired barmaid, as she waltzed up to him.

“The usual, Shane?” She sing-songed and danced away without even waiting for his curt nod. He sat back against the booth, drumming his fingers along the table and keeping his eyes firmly on the ground. He didn’t even bother looking up when he heard the door jingle open again, knowing it would be her, whoever she was. His knees wouldn’t stop moving, itch making him restless, and the drumming increased when he heard a bark of laughter coming from the bar, what the hell was taking Emily so long. When she finally, finally, placed the foaming mug in front of him, granting him a quick smile, he couldn’t even feel guilty about the rush that went through him as he brought it to his lips.

\--

Harlow nestled the beer in her hands, allowing each sip of the frothy liquid to drain away her day, and allowed herself to relax. She was on her second, the tingle on her face reminding her that aside from not being much a beer drinker, she was also a lightweight. However, there weren’t too many people at the Saloon tonight and she preferred it that way, knowing she was in a safe place and there was no one there, at least no one who mattered, to see her slowly drift into drunkenness. The Stardrop Saloon was exactly as her grandfather had described, all wooden beams and warm light, cheery bartender with a rag draped across his shoulder and a smile for anyone who walked in the door. Aside from herself, there was only an older woman at the opposite end of the bar, who laughed too loudly and smelled like the hairspray that held her blonde hair in place, all puffed up and high. At another table sat a sad looking man with a shock of red hair, all round and stout, who kept staring at the blue-haired barmaid and looking away.

And him. Harlow scowled, turning to look at the guy in the far back of the room, face shrouded in shadows. It was the same guy who had interrupted her wandering last night, who had come crashing out of the Saloon with all the grace of a buffalo, and whalloped right into her without so much as an apology. She took another long swallow of beer.

Green, he had said stupidly and with the slur of someone who had had far too many. Harlow had been seriously concerned that he’d been concussed, which would have been icing on the cake, but the help she had offered was immediately brushed away. And tonight. He had been even ruder, bumping into her, glaring at her with deeply-circled eyes as if it had been her fault, pushing past her like she didn’t even matter. Asshole. And yet he sat alone, like her, ignoring the crowd and downing the mugs placed in front of him like there was no tomorrow, and something like solidarity gave a twinge inside her.

Almost as soon as Harlow looked over at him, he raised his face from the dark and their eyes connected. Spurred by her thoughts and the buzz of confidence brought on by the ale, she raised her mug up at him in salute.

He ignored her, a flash of annoyance crossing his face, and immediately cast his eyes downward again. Harlow angrily took a swig of beer before slamming the mug down on the wooden bar. Why did he have such a problem with her, what could she have possibly done to this stranger that would warrant such a negative reaction? As much as Harlow hated to admit it, she hated even more the idea that someone could actively dislike her, she had always been a people-pleaser and this stranger, who had no reason to hate her, seemed to do so anyway.

Another idea sparked in her brain, surely fueled by the beer in her glass that was now suspiciously gone, and Harlow stood up. She would go over and ask him. Surely whatever she’d done, there was nothing a glass of beer couldn’t fix?

\--

Shane was on his fourth beer when he looked up to see the girl, the new farmer, as Emily had cheerfully supplied, with the green eyes, making a beeline for him. Panic flared as he quickly brought the mug to his lips and downed its contents. What the hell does she want?

“Hi.” The farmer said determinedly, sidling up across from him, not looking at him.

Shane said nothing, staring at the table.

“I’m Harlow.” The farmer tried again, raising her voice slightly as if he couldn’t hear her.

Again, Shane did not respond. The alarm he had felt as he watched her come over slowly morphed into a mixture of panic and annoyance. Was she stupid? Did she not understand how much he didn’t want her, or anyone, talking to him? The silence ticked by, neither of them saying a word as Shane wished with all his might that she would just leave. Having someone else so close to his space, he felt stupidly self-conscious.

Aside from Marnie and Jas and the occasional coworker from Joja, he didn’t let people get this close to him. Ever. He could just feel her looking, knowing she would notice the bloat around his chin, the pudge around his middle that wouldn’t go away, that was getting worse with every beer he downed. She was ruining it, his favorite time of the day, sitting there in her white cotton dress, full lips turned down in a frown, not even realizing that just by sitting by him other people would start to stare.

“Another round, Shane?” Emily said, trying and failing to mask her surprise at seeing Shane joined by someone else. Before he could open his mouth, Harlow interjected.

“Yes, two beers please.”

He stared. She wasn’t looking at him, keeping her gaze locked on the table in front of her. After more minutes of painful silence, Emily brought over two mugs. Shane grabbed his at once and downed its contents immediately, finishing with a small burp he tried to hide. He saw the farmer cast a wide eye at his now empty mug, before straightening up, picking up her own and doing the same. His mouth dropped.

“Two more please!”

And again, almost as soon as Emily brought over their next round, Shane downing his like it was his last, Harlow followed in suit.

“Again!” Harlow called, hiccuping.

“What are you doing?” Shane muttered at last, finally making eye contact. The girl was going to drink herself to death and he couldn’t have that on his hands.

“I can keep up,” She hiccuped with only a slight slur and all the same determination.

Shane snorted lightly. As resident town drunk, he seriously doubted that she could, but all the beers that he had already consumed were starting to affect him too, casting the room in an even warmer glow and making his limbs all nice and heavy. He looked at the farmer, white dress and pale skin, deep eyes with the flecks of gold. And pathetically enough, this weird interaction, this game with her, well it was the most he had had with another human being who wasn’t his aunt or Jas in months and it was enough to keep him going.

\--

Harlow was drunk. She was very, very drunk. She was drunk enough to stare openly at Shane, that's what Emily had called him, and realize he was handsome. Despite the tired circles, puffy chin that she was sure came from drinking too much beer and dour expression that never seemed to leave his face, there was something about him. His hair, dark with that weird purple sheen, was tousled in a way that made her fingers, for some reason, itch to go through it. The 5 o’clock shadow made him look tough and dare she say, rugged. And his eyes. She had never seen anyone with violet eyes before and they were piercing, made her feel glued to the floor though she couldn’t help but notice how sad they were.

“You okay?” Shane grunted, looking at her sideways, and she was still surprised to hear how smooth his voice was.

She nodded quickly, too quickly because her head was soon spinning, and finished the last drops at the bottom of her glass.

“I should probably call it a night,” Harlow noted, standing up and toppling over slightly before catching herself. “Too fast.”

Shane sighed almost imperceptibly and stood with her.

“I’ll take you home.”

“You don’t have to,” She protested, making her way to the door and once more stumbling. “I’m a big girl, I can manage.”

“Sure.” He replied shortly, holding open the door for her. “I’ll walk you anyway.”

The air was blessedly cool as they stepped outside, a breeze ruffling her curls and easing some of the drunk haze away. They walked in silence, making their way past the neat houses, and Harlow wished she knew what to say to this stranger that couldn’t stand her, and yet was walking her home without even asking where she lived. They approached Cindersap Forest and made their way past the giant ranch, the one Lewis told her sold all kinds of livestock. She wanted chickens, Harlow thought to herself wistfully as they took the path that would lead back to Grandpa’s farm - her farm. She stole another quick glance at Shane, who walked expressionless beside her, and didn’t notice a root in the ground until she stumbled.

“Oops!”

She almost went tumbling down, face first, when Harlow felt a strong arm tighten across her waist and the other hold her hand, hoisting her up. Throat dry, she saw Shane’s eyes tighten with irritation as he held her up. Harlow knew she was drunk, knew because the hand that held her waist burned through her dress and into her skin like magma. This always happened to her. Everytime she was drunk, the haze turned from pleasant buzz to thick desire that craved skin and touch. And Shane, despite his sour attitude and obvious disdain for her, was attractive and so clearly unattainable, she thought miserably, only making the craving stronger.

“Thanks.” Harlow said lowly and he immediately released her, as if he had felt the same burn, granting her nothing but a nod. They finally reached the farm, coming to a halt in front of her tiny house, and stared at each other awkwardly. Surprisingly enough, Harlow noted that Shane was almost unconsciously swaying, eyes holding the hint of glaze that revealed maybe she wasn’t the only one who was drunk. She would blame this moment later on, the revelation that maybe Shane was just as inebriated as she was, as the reason why a moment later, before Shane could turn away, she grabbed his wrist and quickly said,

“Want to come inside?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Appreciate any and all feedback. :)


	3. It's Good to Hate

Shane gaped.

Had he heard her correctly? Had she just…? Time slowed, dragging, as they stared at each other. She was flushed now, all pretty and pink, pale fingers wrapped loosely around his wrist. 

“Well?” Harlow asked, with a nervous laugh.

He had no idea what to say. His limbs felt frozen, he could do nothing more but stare, jaw slacked. Panic bubbled inside him. This was a bad, bad, bad idea. What was she thinking? He didn’t know this girl from a hole in a wall, had brushed her off and ignored her, and yet here she was, inviting him for a fucking one night stand. Was she right in the head? He couldn’t even consider this. He wouldn't. The part of his brain, the very small part, that was still functioning reminded him that he didn’t do this. He didn’t let people get close, close enough to look at him, much less touch him. In the two years he’d lived in Pelican Town, conversations with anyone but Jas and Marnie had been kept to curt nods, simple yes’s and no’s. Sure, it wasn’t always easy, drowning his days in a cold one, but it was better that way, knowing he had less to lose. 

And yet… it’s been so long, whispered the part of his mind that was already loose and soft around the edges. And now he had finally let himself look at Harlow, standing there with rosy cheeks. Had let himself look at the shapely figure revealed by the cling of her dress. Had looked at the creamy skin, the dark tumble of curls. All he could do now, drunk and horny, was look. It was enough to make up his mind, ignoring the murmur in the corner of his mind that said he would hate himself in the morning. He stuffed the nerves away, locking them in a mental box as tightly as he could, praying his hands would stop shaking and the voice in his head would just shut up. 

“It’s okay,” Harlow said quickly, interrupting his thoughts. She dropped her fingers from his wrist like hot coal. “Forget it, it’s oka-” 

He pulled her roughly towards him, his hands all sweaty and shaky, watched her green eyes go wide. He wasn’t sure who leaned in first, but eyes shuttered closed as he tilted his face down to meet hers. Soft lips touched his, full and pliant, kissing him with an uncertainty that gradually faded. Small arms wound around his neck and they stumbled inside, Shane not even realizing the door had opened. He let himself be guided to a small bed without ever breaking away from her lips until his knees hit the back of the frame. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the enthusiastic turn her kisses had taken, but his hands had steadied and the panic was slowly leaving his body, being replaced with something thick like warm honey. 

She pushed him down on the bed, all hooded eyes and heaving chest. Shane didn’t know how much he could touch, what was allowed or not, when he wanted nothing more than to reach underneath the white dress, run his hands all over the skin that seemed to light him on fire. He couldn’t breathe, only barely keeping himself quiet when she straddled him. Hard already and straining against his shorts, Shane was dizzy knowing there was only a thin layer separating him from that warmth. 

Fueled by the combination of desire and the sweet, sweet buzz the alcohol had left behind, he reached up to cup her chest, feeling her sigh against his lips when he gave a small squeeze. Breaking away from their kiss, she pulled the sleeves of her dress down slowly to her stomach, Shane’s mouth going dry. Her breasts were perfect, pale like the rest of her skin and nipples dusty pink. He palmed them with one hand, watched her eyes darken, feeling her nipple pebble underneath his touch. He slid the other hand up her legs, encouraged by the whimpering noise she let out, until he reached soft silk. They stared at each other once more, breathless and slightly glazed, until she gave him the tiniest nod of encouragement and he slid the underwear past her legs. 

In turn, she reached a hand between them, fumbling with the button on his shorts until it popped open. Shane couldn’t help it this time, he let out a quiet groan when her fingers tugged him free, wrapping around him firmly. It was all moving so quickly, her hand working him up and down as she positioned herself, wave upon wave of sheer want crashing into him. He felt powerless against it all, could only lie there with one hand at her chest and the other on her hip, as she sank down on him, warm and so fucking wet, and let it drag him under.

-

Harlow woke up alone, tangled in between sticky, damp sheets. She had a small headache, thighs aching with a familiar twinge. She was still wearing her clothes, she realized blearily, rubbing at her eyes.

Oh no.

Recollection hit her like a truck. The sullen face, slowing morphing into something almost amused after one too many beers. The walk back to the farm, her invitation hanging over them, turning the air taut like a rubber band. Shane’s body underneath hers, sheen of sweat sticking them together as her hips rode him, fast and steady.

“You idiot,” She whispered to herself furiously, whacking her forehead with a palm. “You fucking idiot.” 

Her first night out, if it could even be called that, and she had hooked up with a stranger as if she was still in Zuzu City. Harlow groaned internally, sitting up and burying her face in her knees. Pelican Town had a population smaller than her old apartment complex. And if anyone had seen her last night, stumbling and clinging to Shane’s arm on the walk back to the farm, she was sure she’d gain a reputation faster than she could blink. 

And Shane. It felt strange thinking about him. Her interactions with him had been less than stellar. She hadn’t known why, but she had felt the need to prove something to him last night, needed to show him, sulking there in his corner of the Saloon, that he couldn’t just write her off. That stupid drinking game, whatever it had been, had gone way further than she intended. 

“Do you want to come in?”

Harlow groaned. She remembered his face going slack, obviously shocked by her boldness. She couldn’t imagine he received many offers, combination of sour attitude and small town considered, but she couldn’t deny there was something about him that had attracted her enough to pull such a stupid move. And it had worked. Again, she replayed, almost reluctantly, the image of Shane writhing underneath her, all traces of indifference gone, the fullness of having him inside her- 

Enough. Glancing at the clock, she scrambled out of bed, cursing as she realized she’d slept through most of the morning. It had been a mistake, this stupid night with Shane, Harlow thought to herself as she hopped in the shower, and it couldn’t be taken back. Thinking about it was only making her feel worse. She left the shower colder than usual and let the water run over her, making sure the traces of last night washed away.

-

And of course, Harlow saw him again a week later, dour and skulking in a corner of Pierre’s store. She had avoided coming into town, had especially avoided the Saloon, focused on clearing more of her grandfather’s land into something workable. Sheer necessity had driven her to seek out the general store, introducing herself to the man with glasses at the front, as her supply of snack bars and milk dwindled dangerously low. Her immediate instinct, as she turned the corner and saw him, was to flee. She could feel herself turning red with embarrassment, and she attempted to go back, before knocking over a bag of sugar. His eyes immediately shot to hers, hands going into the pockets of a worn down jacket.

“Hi.” She tried after a few moments, giving him a small wave.

He turned his head away from her.

So that’s how it’s going to be? And almost immediately, the irritation buzzed in her mind, the same one from the night in the Saloon that had compelled her to bring her mug over to his table. It was almost instantaneous, the way the embarrassment left her, quick as lightning, replaced with something she didn’t want to name. She sidled up next to him and watched as he stiffened.

“I never said thank you, for the other night when you walked me home.” Harlow started, determined, refusing to let herself think of any other part of that night. 

“Don’t mention it.” He muttered.

That was progress. She’d gotten more than a nod from him, though he still refused to even look at her, eyes trained on the shelf in front of him. In her mind, she saw a flash of sweaty skin, before quelling the thought at once. 

“How did you know where I lived?” She asked curiously after more minutes of silence, tossing a packet of rice into her basket. 

“Only one farm in town.” 

“Right.” She said sheepishly, feeling stupid, and it was silent again. It was painstakingly obvious Shane was uncomfortable, all tense shoulders and impassive face, she wasn’t an idiot, she could read his body language clearly. Yet she could still see the other Shane in there somewhere, the one from that night, the one she only let herself think about late at night, when she was alone in her bed. The irritation, like an angry fly, buzzed again. This just wasn’t going to work, small talk would clearly get her nowhere and, for reasons she couldn’t understand, she was determined to get something out of Shane. 

“I’ll see you around.” 

Without waiting for him to respond, Harlow walked away. 

-

Shane swallowed the last drops of beer and set his mug down on the table. He debated asking Emily for another round, knowing that he was teetering dangerously close to crossing the line between comfortably tipsy to morosely drunk. But who was he kidding, that had never stopped him before and Shane had learned long ago to conceal the worst of it from Marnie and Jas and that was all that mattered.

He was about to wave Emily down, knee starting to jitter, when she strolled in. She walked up to the bar, striking up a conversation with Gus almost immediately, though he couldn’t hear much from his dark little corner. Instead of the white cotton dress, the one Shane refused to think about, she wore a pair of soil-streaked overalls, hair tossed carelessly up, a few curls falling into her eyes. It had been over a week since the night with the farmer. He had tried to cast the memories out of his mind, shutting them into a corner, had tried so hard that there were moments when he wasn’t even sure it had happened at all. 

It was only when he laid down in his bed, bones aching and belly sloshing with beer, that he allowed himself snippets of that night. The feel of her lips, soft and unsure. The sight of her on top of him, one leg on either side, breasts exposed. The warmth of her hand around him, rubbing him up and down, and up and down. Desire would coil, hot and thick in his groin, his hand reaching for his cock, when he would remember the next morning. Waking up in a bed that wasn’t his own. The smell of sex hanging in the air, farmer fast asleep next to him. Foul taste in his mouth as he realized he had fucked this stranger, who had been drunk. So drunk she couldn’t even walk without stumbling. So drunk, she had let Shane, of all people, into her bed.

His knee jittered faster than ever. But he had been too distracted, too caught up in his thoughts to realize who had eased into the seat across from him. 

“Another round?” 

For fuck’s sake, would she ever quit it? He scowled openly at Harlow, who sat casually on the stool, legs swinging. She didn’t even bother waiting for his answer before flagging down Emily with an easy smile. Only when the beers came, a few moments later, and he had taken a long swig, he addressed her.

“What’s it gonna take for you to leave me alone?” 

Harlow laughed, though he didn’t know why, it wasn’t a joke, and only sipped her beer. She didn’t say anything, didn’t try to match him this time, only taking short sips as she watched the bustle of the Saloon. He didn’t know why but it made him even more nervous, fingers tapping the table in an irregular rhythm, he couldn’t figure out what game she was playing at. He downed the beer almost criminally fast, praying it would ease the frayed nerves at having her sit so close to him, but was even further confused when she ordered him another. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, with a hint of anger.

“Just being friendly.” She responded, all composed and still watching the people around them, before taking another slow drink. “You should try it.”

That shut him up. Friendly? He thought angrily, grabbing the mug as soon as Emily set it down, taking gulp after gulp. Getting him drunk was being friendly? How more obvious did he need to get, how much clearer did he need to be for her to realize he had zero interest in being her friend? He wasn’t even sure why he was so mad, with all the free beer being thrown his way, but it was there, rage jumbled with confusion, making his jaw clench so hard, Shane could almost feel his teeth crack. 

She set her glass down, now empty, and finally looked. For once, Shane didn’t care, glaring back at her, drunkenly hoping she could see just how enraged he was. 

“Will you walk me home?”

And the rage was gone, just like that, extinguished like a flame at her words and replaced with even more bewilderment. He could only stare at her, swaying slightly in his seat and helplessly confused, watching as she got up from her chair and tossed some gold on the table. She walked towards the door, calling out a quick goodbye to Gus and Emily, again with that easy smile as if she had known them for years, and left. And a few seconds later, without knowing why, Shane scrambled up and walked after her.

Harlow was waiting for him by the lamp post, light casting a soft glow on her face, turning it golden yellow. She began walking once he reached her, heading down the same path they had walked last time. It was silent, just like before, broken only by the occasional blow of the breeze, and the quiet felt endless to Shane. He didn’t understand what was happening, he was already drunk and stumbling slightly, didn’t understand what she was doing, what she wanted with him, and could understand even less why he had been dumb enough to follow her out. When they finally reached the farmhouse, Shane unable to stop himself from thinking about the last time he was here, it felt so fucking similar, she turned to him again. Her gaze was searching, trained on his face, making him feel bare and exposed, as if she could read every thought he was having, could see the flashes from that night that just wouldn’t leave him alone. 

A few seconds later, or what felt like years to him, Harlow turned and walked into the house, leaving the door wide open behind her. 

Heart pounding, Shane waited for a few moments before he followed her inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) See you next week!


	4. The Highway Won

It continued that way for weeks. He’d walk into the Saloon, burned out from another empty, back-breaking shift at Joja, shoot a quick nod at Gus as he made his way to the little tucked away table. Almost entirely cast in shadows, he had come to think of it as his. And unwillingly, as soon as he was comfortable, the ripple of nerves would start. He’d sit there, tense, watching the door out of the corner of his eye and waiting to see if she would show up. The beer that Emily would slide over, cold and frothing, went easily down his throat. It dampened the anxiety only for a moment, and then his fingers drummed against the wood grain again. He hated the way his stomach dropped everytime the door jingled open, hated the tiny flair of disappointment when it was Pam who walked in, guffawing loudly, or Clint, pudgy and unhappy.    


Some nights she didn’t show. When the hours crawled away and there was still no sign of her, his throat would tighten up, in anger at himself or her, he didn’t know which. The voice in his head would sneer, reminding him that Harlow didn’t owe him a damn thing, that despite all of this, whatever they were doing, they didn’t know anything about each other. She had finally realized, it told him as less and less people filled the saloon, there were better things to do than waste her time with him.  She never came on the busy nights. When the Saloon was filled with townspeople, alive with chatter and the clink of glass, Shane would sit in his corner and wait anyway. Marnie and Lewis at their usual table, heads bowed together in conversation. The carpenter from the mountains throwing her head back as she laughed and danced with her husband. He could hear some of the younger crowd in the back of the Saloon, a mingle of their loud laughs and the crack of a pool stick hitting a ball. Those were the nights, humiliation eating at him, he’d down beer after beer until he was almost dribbling down the front of his hoodie. But his attempts would work eventually. He would drown out the voice, rid himself of the ache in his bones, and everything around him would fade to a colorful blur. When Gus, stacking up chairs on the table, finally smiled at him, Shane knew it was over. The smile, jovial as ever but always with a hint of pity that Shane couldn’t stand - the one he saw on the faces of everyone in the fucking town - signalled the end of the night. And Shane would have no choice but to concede defeat. He’d throw down whatever was left in his wallet and stalk out of the Saloon. 

Other days, she did show. He’d watch from his corner as she walked inside, muddy boots and smiling, occasional weed stuck in her curl. She’d greet whoever she saw in her path, offer up a big toothy grin as she approached the bar. She was trying so hard, Shane would think to himself, watching her chat with Gus with an obvious attempt at amiability. Trying to find her place here, trying to be liked or maybe both. It was the smile that did it, Shane decided. It was almost worse than Gus’s. It was shiny, fake like hard plastic, and he couldn’t believe anybody was really buying it. 

But then Harlow would approach his table, tankard in hand, smile much steadier and he wouldn’t think about it anymore. They’d sit mostly in silence, listening to the low murmur of the jukebox in the corner, the one that only played old tunes that Shane didn’t recognize. Pam would always try to sing along. He’d drink until he was comfortable enough that his shoulders relaxed and the doubt, the one that made him feel too big for his body, subsided into nothing more than background noise. It was never as much as the first time and Harlow herself never drank more than a single beer. Before long, she’d stand up, eyes questioning his, a cue to leave. The eyes lingered however, a flash of something else in the depths. Shane almost wondered if she questioned whether today would be the day he’d change his mind. Or maybe it was the reflection of his own, Shane couldn’t really tell. But he would nod and they would walk out together, only Gus with his plastic smile looking up as the door swung behind them. 

The shift in energy was instant. As soon as they came to the farmhouse, they were reaching for each other, hands tugging at clothing. Shane would lose himself in those moments, lose himself in the breathlessness of her kiss, in that tight warmth that would grip him. And one time, writhing underneath him, her hands gripping white sheets, she had whispered his name as he fucked her slowly. 

“Shane.” She had said, all low and throaty, green eyes peeking at him through her lashes. 

He came almost immediately, it ripped through him so unexpectedly. It was the first time she’d said it, though they had been doing this for weeks, the first time he could remember hearing his name come out of her mouth. 

-

Though the muscles in her body felt stronger, country life wasn’t getting any easier. Her hands were growing rough with calluses and her tools easier to pick up every time, but the work itself never let up. Harlow had never realized - or maybe never remembered - just how  _ big _ the farm actually was. She had been tireless, clearing out the trees and rocks that had taken over the land, working ‘til the sun had set, axe swinging through the air. And she’d wake the next day and do it all again. But every time she made some progress, there was more. The seeds she’d been given by Lewis grew into fat parsnips she had been able to sell back to the shopkeeper, Pierre. She had been so excited, so thrilled by the profit she’d made. Spurred by the unexpectedness of her success, she had eagerly bought even more seeds at once. But more seeds meant more work, and most of the land still wasn’t ready for tilling, so many trees that still needed clearing, and there was still so much to  _ do.  _

The only way she was able to forget, at least for a few moments, how in over her head she actually was, was through her nights with Shane. And God, it was pathetic. She had no idea how she had gotten to this point, sleeping with a stranger that avoided her unless he had beer in his bloodstream.The man she saw at the Saloon, the same man she had bumped into on that first night in town, was still so far out of her reach. Every rigid line in his body, every jaw clench she saw when she walked into the Saloon served as a reminder that Shane was still a stranger. 

It wasn’t enough to stop her. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, it was followed by ten others. An image of Shane reaching towards her in the darkness, pressing their bodies close. Shane, looking up at her from between her thighs, using his warm hands to part her legs wider. Shane, driving his hips into her, faster and faster, almost with an edge of desperation. And she’d pick up her drink and walk over to his table. Harlow needed to stop thinking about him. 

She was taking a break from the work, walking the path towards the south of the farm. The stones that her grandpa had laid out with care were the only thing that cut between the wild tangle of trees and rocks. It was the path that she and Shane took most nights on their way back from the Saloon. She was still entirely woefully unfamiliar with Pelican Town, Harlow thought to herself as she approached the forest, still avoiding most of the townspeople if she could help it. She didn’t know why - Grandpa had always loved the feel of community in the valley - but it was hard enough having to establish herself as a credible farmer without worrying about small town opinions.

Now, as she emerged into the forest, Harlow had finally decided to give in and seek out the carpenter’s shop. She knew her grandfather had downsized the old farmhouse towards the end, keeping nothing but the necessary. And while the single room home had been enough for him, Harlow was tired of sleeping and eating in the same spot. If she’d calculated it right, she would have just enough to expand the house and not starve for the rest of the season. She took a sharp left, sure that’s what Mayor Lewis had explained during his brief introductory, but came upon nothing more than pine trees and a spindly tower. Well, that wasn’t right. Doubling back, she retraced her steps and found the large ranch house instead, high fences keeping in the cows grazing in the pasture. Maybe, just maybe, someone inside could point her on the right path. This definitely wasn’t part of the plan but she had no idea where to go, struggling to remember what Lewis had said. Just a quick question and she’d be on her way. 

She knocked on the door hesitantly and a voice hollered from within. Opening the door, she saw an older woman inside, bushy hair tied into a braid, fiddling with an old register. The ranch was homey, a fire crackled in the corner despite the warm spring air and her nose filled with hay. A chicken clucked by the woman’s feet, and Harlow could see framed pictures of more animals lining the walls.

“Hi there.” she said, waving quickly. “I’m-”

“The new farmer!” The woman exclaimed, looking up and smiling widely. “Harlow, right? Ah, Mayor Lewis told me you arrived a few weeks ago!” 

“That’s me,” She affirmed, smiling back. “I think the chicken gives it away, but are you Robin?”

The woman laughed, warm brown eyes crinkling around the corners. “I’m Marnie. If you’re lookin’ for Robin, up in the mountains is where you wanna go.” 

_ The mountains.  _ Harlow didn’t even know where that was. Feeling foolish, she opened her mouth to answer when Marnie interrupted. 

“Have you been up there? It’s not too far out from the farm.” 

Harlow shook her head. “Not yet.” 

Marnie smiled again, but before she could respond, a door to her right opened. To Harlow’s shock, Shane ran out, clad in comfy-looking sweats, a small girl strapped to his back. The girl, who was wearing purple from head to toe, waved one hand in the air as if she held an invisible lasso. They were both grinning and out of breath, not a trace of the usual resentment she was used to seeing on Shane’s face. 

“Go, go, go!” The little girl yelled, when he stopped short. She dropped the hand when she saw Harlow, hiding her face in Shane’s shirt with a squeak. The easy, relaxed look left Shane immediately, shuttered and closed off, far more like what she was used to seeing from him. 

Marnie, blissfully unaware of the sudden tension, walked from behind the register and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Harlow, this is my nephew,” She said, patting him as he removed the little girl from his back. She tucked herself behind his leg at once, burying her face in his pants. “Shane, Harlow’s the farmer who just moved in.”

“Nice to meet you.” Harlow forced the words out.

“You too.” He muttered, angry flush turning his neck ruddy. The little girl kept her face hidden, only a hint of a big green bow peeking out. 

“This is Jas.” Marnie said, after a few seconds of silence, pointing to her. “She’s a little shy.” 

Harlow didn’t know what to do and the girl only buried her face deeper into Shane’s leg. There was more painful silence, even Marnie’s smile growing dim, as they did nothing more than look at each other.

“I should probably take off,” Harlow said eventually, scratching the back of her neck. “Thanks for your help, I’m sure I’ll find it.”

“Well, why don’t we take you on up there?” Marnie exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “We have the pick up out back, Shane can drive you!”

“Oh no, that’s really okay.” She said quickly, watching as Shane’s face turned mutinous.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Marnie continued obliviously, rummaging through her pockets and pulling out a pair of shiny silver keys. “We’re neighbors now after all.”

With a wink, she tossed the keys to Shane, who caught them at once with a grimace. Harlow didn’t know what to do. She considered protesting once more because it was obvious Shane did not want to do this at all, but before she could speak, Marnie was steering her out of the door, Shane trailing behind them.

-

Shane didn’t say a word as he started the truck, one hand on the wheel. He couldn’t even look at Harlow, who sat next to him quietly, pulling at a thread from the frayed jeans she wore. 

Fucking Marnie and her meddling. She was constantly roping him into her so called favors, her ill-concealed attempts at trying to integrate him into the community by having him deliver goods to or show up to festivals. And Shane’s problem was that he was simply unable to say no to her. Marnie, aside from Jas, was the only family he had left. When he had shown up at her doorstep, choking on his grief with a toddler in hand, she had not hesitated. She had opened her doors, put a roof over their heads, made sure that Jas had never gone wanting. Shane couldn’t say no.

And Harlow. What had she even been doing at the ranch? From what Shane had seen of the farm, it was still a mess. It was in no condition to house any sort of livestock. And he’d never once mentioned to her where he lived or that Marnie was his family. Really he’d never mentioned anything to her at all.

He pulled out of the driveway, gravel crunching under the wheels. It wasn’t as if she was a stranger either, he thought grudgingly, glancing at Harlow. For fuck’s sake, he was practically in her bed every other night. So what if he had to spend a few minutes with her outside of the Saloon, have a quick conversation? Even if he was feeling the absence of his usual beer, cold and comforting in his grasp, he would make it through the quick ride with her. She wasn’t even acting like the rest of them, trying to fill the silence with inane chatter that didn’t even mean anything. Harlow already knew him better than anyone else in town - though that wasn’t saying much. He could do it, Shane decided, he could pretend to be normal for once, talk to a pretty girl riding next to him. He ignored the sudden sweat in his palms. Maybe it was time. 

“Why are you going to the carpenter’s?” He asked, clearing his throat when it sounded like his voice would crack.

She looked up, a mingle of surprise and relief, and latched on to his question like it was a lifeline.

“Hoping to expand my house actually. I thought I could live with it for a few months, but it’s just too small, I keep bumping into everything. Even my room back home was bigger.” 

“Where’s home?” He kept his eyes straight ahead.

“East side of Zuzu City,” She responded, before trailing off. “Though, I guess this is home now.”

This was easier, Shane thought, he could almost let himself relax now. He turned the steering wheel and made a right. They were almost at the mountains.

“Is Jas your daughter?” Harlow asked suddenly, playing with the thread on her jeans.

The question was innocent enough, but Shane’s walls went up immediately. The ease he’d felt only a few seconds before was gone.

“No.” 

“Is she Marnie’s?” 

“No.” He said again, tersely, turning a left. The last thing he wanted to talk about, last thing he needed to be reminded of, was Jas’ parentage. He pressed his foot a little harder down on the gas pedal, suddenly eager to drop her off. He could finally see the carpenter’s, Robin, house up ahead, and he stepped down with even more force, urging the old truck forward. They were almost there. 

“Are you related?” 

“She’s my goddaughter, okay?” Shane snapped, glaring at her, and she backed up against the seat at once, raising her hands up as if in surrender. 

“Sorry, I really didn’t mean to pry,” She said, sounding apologetic. “I’m just - I still don’t know anything about you.”

Shane wanted her out of the car. He had snapped at Harlow for asking a question, a question he knew was innocent, a question she had even earned after everything they had done together. And here she was, apologizing to  _ him,  _ making him feel even guilty by acting as if she had been the one to do something wrong. Furious with himself, feeling more pathetic than ever, Shane pulled into the driveway.

“Shane?” She said timidly. “I really didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Forget it.”

"I mean, you know I - that is, we-”

“We?” He had to bark out a laugh, though his insides felt like ice, knew that it had finally come to this. “What do you mean we?” 

She was red now, cheeks ruby. “You know what I mean.” 

“Get out.” He said, not looking at her. He couldn't do this.

“Excuse me?” 

“Get out.” He repeated, still turning his face away from her.

He heard her fumbling, then the click of a seat belt unbuckling rapidly next to him. The truck door opened, creaky, before slamming shut again. Then she was in front of him, gritted teeth and flashing eyes, pushing a finger into his chest.

“You win.” 

And it was clear, underneath the fury, the tone of utter finality as she turned and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of run ons, omg. I'm still getting comfortable writing this, and writing Harlow, but I'm slowly getting there. I can't wait to see where this little nugget of story goes. I've got a lot of ideas *winks*
> 
> See y'all next week! 
> 
> PS. Hope everyone is safe and sane during these crazy times.


	5. Guess You'd Call This Regression

“Thanks again!” Harlow called over her shoulder, giving Robin one last grin. She shut the door behind her, finally out of earshot, and sagged against it. It had taken effort, plastering on just the right amount of cheer on her face, having to ignore the irritation and confusion and the urge to just fucking  _ hit _ something that wriggled underneath its surface. Of all the stupidest, most confusing arguments - if it could even be called that - she’d had in her life, Harlow was pretty sure it ranked in at least the top five. Sure, maybe she’d been a little pushy, asking Shane so many questions when he’d been visibly uncomfortable. But God, he was  _ always _ uncomfortable. And aside from the moments she had him in her bed, and he was always at least a little bit tipsy by then, she couldn’t forget that, Harlow couldn’t recall a single time where he had been civil. And she’d slept with him anyway.

Ignoring the sudden absurd urge to cry, Harlow pushed herself up from the door and began walking. At least she’d gotten what she came for. Robin had been warm and agreeable, just like Marnie, and assured her that expanding the farmhouse would be no problem. According to the carpenter, she would finish the job in no less than three days. The news should have made her happy, but all Harlow wanted now was to crawl into bed. And she still had no idea how to get back to the farm. She had never been this way before, this deep into the mountains, not even in her childhood. Aside from a rickety looking bridge to her right which was definitely  _ not  _ the right way to go, Robin’s large house was surrounded by nothing but pine trees and crooked boulders. The sun was setting, casting low shadows onto the ground and the breeze that skimmed the ends of her hair held a hint of chill.  _ Just retrace your steps,  _ she thought to herself. Yeah, she had been staring at the hole in her jeans the whole drive with Shane, but it was a start. 

Harlow had only been walking for a few minutes when a high pitched noise pierced the silence of the woods. She stumbled to a stop, one hand on the rough bark of a pine tree, and heard it again. A girl stood a few feet away from her, Harlow wasn’t sure how she hadn’t spotted her before, holding some kind of flute to her lips with fingers covered in jeweled rings. She had a shock of bright purple hair, the kind that had obviously come from a cheap box, but it was the most colorful thing about her. Everything else she wore was black, ripped, and covered in netting. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, bringing the instrument to her lips and making a string of high notes before setting it down again with a small shake of her head. Harlow tried to keep walking, slowing and softening her steps to avoid being noticed, when the girl turned without warning, her head turned up like a hound with a scent. 

“Who’s there?” She called out, dropping the flute from her lips and holding it out in front of her like a sword.

“Sorry, sorry!” Harlow said quickly, stepping out from behind the tree and holding her hands up. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

The girl lowered the flute slightly, still suspicious, until a second later her eyes widened in recognition and she dropped it down entirely.

“Wait, you’re the farmer, aren’t you? My dad mentioned someone new was moving onto that old farm!”

Harlow wanted to groan.  _ The farmer _ . It was already her title, the way everyone seemed to know and refer to her by, and it still felt like they were talking about someone else. They said it with such reverence, such joy, probably at the thought of welcoming some new blood but it didn’t fit her. Like a new pair of shoes waiting to be broken in, scraping her feet until they bled,  _ farmer.  _

Trying not to scowl, she waved two fingers in the air like a salute.  “That’s me.” 

“What’s your name?” 

“Harlow. You?”

_ “ _ Abigail. You know, it's kind of a shame, really.” She continued, shoving the flute into a bag slung over her shoulder. “I always enjoyed exploring those overgrown fields by myself.”

“By all means, don’t stop on my account.” 

Abigail grinned at her, swinging her purple hair out of her face. “Nah, it’s not the same, knowing I’m allowed to now. How come I haven’t seen you before?” 

“I haven’t really met most people yet,” Harlow replied truthfully. “Thought I’d settle in first, work out the whole farmer thing before I started the social calls.”

The other girl nodded. “I get that. Community’s a big thing here and all, but trust me, the only thing some people want to do here is talk to each other and then about each other.”

Harlow laughed. “Yeah, still figuring out the whole small town, everybody knows everybody thing too.” 

“Where did you come from?” 

“East side of Zuzu - I mean I used to visit the valley as a kid, so it’s not totally new, but I guess I remembered it differently.” 

“You’ll get used to it,” Abigail said knowingly, before giving a small chuckle. “Not that I’m an expert, you know, having lived here my entire life and all.” She motioned towards a small clearing in the trees. 

“Want to walk back together? I live right next to the clinic, it's right on your way.” 

Harlow almost cried in relief, nodding her head, thanking the universe she wouldn’t have to spend the next however long minutes or hours trying to figure out how to get home. The clinic was right in the square and she’d definitely be able to make it back from there. They set off together, chatting amiably, falling into an easy step. Harlow was surprised to find out that Abigail was Pierre’s daughter, though it was easy now to see, from what Harlow had gathered from the tightly wound, pompous shopkeeper, where the purple hair and emo clothing came from. The other girl was friendly, asking her questions about living in the Zuzu City and quick to provide sarcastic quips about other townspeople that left Harlow laughing genuinely, nothing like the fake, plastic smiles she’d had to produce for everyone else. It was  _ nice,  _ talking to Abigail felt like a breath of fresh air, a welcome relief from grunts and dismissive looks. After about twenty minutes, and a lengthy description of the town’s only graveyard - Harlow didn’t even want to know how Abigail knew so much about it - they reached Pierre’s Store.

“We should hang out sometime,” Abigail said as they turned to each other. “Some of my friends and I hang out at the Saloon on Friday nights. It’s kind of like a tradition, I guess.”

“Yeah, that would be fun.” And as they parted, exchanging quick waves, and she began walking the cobblestone path back to the farm, Harlow was surprised to realize it was only half a lie.

-

She hated to admit it, stoking the fire in her newly expanded living room, but Harlow was getting lonely. Isolation, after a life in the city being surrounded by the thrum of always moving people, was still alien. The farm, yawning out with its acres of green, was so cut off from the rest of the town. It hadn’t bothered her at first, the endless expanse of field that seemed to go on and on. She’d sit on the creaky porch sometimes, after she had finished work, watch the stars that dotted the skies at night glittering like crushed glass. Nothing but the sound of branches swaying lazily in the wind, their leaves rustling in the wake of the breeze. It had been comforting at first, a welcome break from the click of typing keyboards and beeping screens. But the silence slowly turned on her, enveloping her in its embrace tighter and tighter everyday until Harlow was almost stifled. And the tiny taste of friendly interaction she’d had with Abigail last week hadn’t helped. If anything, combined with the fact that she didn’t even have her nights with Shane anymore, it had left Harlow almost starving.

Leaning back against the worn leather of a couch she’d bought off Robin secondhand, she let the warmth of flames wash over her, closing her eyes. Leaving Joja, leaving Zuzu City, it almost felt like a dream. Harlow had been in the valley almost a month now, and it was still as if she was living someone else’s life. Long gone were the weekends, filled with the smoky air of dimly lit dance clubs, bodies pressing up against her, bleeding out the gray veil that a week in her cubicle always left behind. Her friends, if they could even be called that, pushing drinks into her hands and guiding her in the direction of handsome strangers. Waking up at noon the next morning with a pounding in her head, lying in an unfamiliar bed next to a face she didn’t know. 

Now her days started early, when the sky was still streaked with shades of lilac and orange as the sun rose with her. She’d traded in the heels and pencil skirts for sturdy jeans and worn out boots. The work never stopped out there in the wide verdant fields, there was always something to clear out or cut away, always more to plant and water and harvest. Her only company was the occasional bird that soared overhead. And the day didn’t end at the beep of a clock, a flash of numbers, anymore. No, now it was her body that let her know, aching and sweating and unable to lift her tools, when the day was over. And the evenings. Rather than covering her eyes in smoky black shadow and slipping on whatever slinky or glittering thing she could find in her closet, all she needed was a quick shower, a scrubbed and clean face and she was ready. Instead of a nightclub, there was the Stardrop, rustic and bathed in the warm glow of a stirring fire, a place where everyone knew everyone. The only thing that hadn’t changed in Harlow’s life was a stranger in her bed every night. 

She’d had boyfriends and hookups and people who had just been useful for a quick fool around before, but Shane hadn’t been any of those things. He  _ definitely _ wasn’t her boyfriend. He wasn’t her friend either, had made it abundantly clear that he’d no interest in getting to know her at all - aside from the nights he spent with her and Harlow hated to admit how much that stung. But something about their time together, the way he followed her out of the Saloon at once, with no hesitation, and the desperate way he grabbed her once they reached the farm, well that definitely wasn’t just fooling around. 

Instead, he had gone and fucked it all up, their perfect little web of complicated. Her previous attempts at getting through to him, despite the brush offs, had been one thing. They had paid off in the end. Nevertheless Harlow still had some pride left in her, and that disastrous ride with Shane, the scoffing laugh and the way he’d snapped at her, had been the final straw. And the worst part, the very worst of it, was that she hadn’t even heard from him since. It had been over a week, since their argument, since they’d been  _ together, _ with nothing but radio silence. 

-

He should apologize. Shane knew he should apologize. At first, he’d tried to convince himself that it was better this way. The whole way back to the ranch, he’d driven with a white knuckled grip, the spot where her finger had prodded his chest burning, thinking to himself,  _ it’s better this way. _ Being with Harlow, their nights together, that had been an error, the universe writing out the chapters of his life, realizing it had made a mistake and crossing everything out with a bold black X. Shane knew it because that was just the way it worked. It was cold, matter of fact, that the twenty eight years he’d been alive, life just wasn’t very impressive. He woke up, played with Jas, went to work, drank too much, and went to sleep. Rinse and repeat. Just the way it was, and Shane had accepted that, knew he wasn’t meant for anything more. He definitely wasn’t meant to have a girl like Harlow, pale and beautiful and shining, let him into her world, much less let him into her bed, let him  _ inside her.  _

And life had taught him these lessons the hard way. Shane only tainted good things, everything he touched coming away blackened and rotting eventually, learning that lesson over and over again. He was goddamned Icarus, flying too close to the sun and burning every single time. And it wasn’t Harlow’s fault he was like this, incapable of answering basic questions or having a simple conversation without tumbling down the same dark, twisted hole. She couldn’t have known that Jas’s parents were off limits, in a box he’d locked away so tightly because that was the only way he could convince himself to get up some mornings.

But eventually, after the first few nights he’d gone to the Saloon and she hadn’t shown, the guilt set in. Clawing and prodding at him everytime he sat there, waiting, knowing he was the reason she wouldn’t be there. Harlow still deserved something. She deserved an apology, some kind of explanation that she wasn’t the reason he was like this, it wasn’t because of her that he’d had his little outburst. At the very least, for her sake, Shane needed to try. And he did. Every night he came home from the Saloon, stumbling until he reached his room, he’d sit on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, replaying their last conversation. Every morning he tried, walking out of the door and making it past the forest to the path that led to the farm, until the shame and panic bubbled up and forced him to turn back. 

Today would be different. Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, one hand on either side of the sink, he knew today would be different. Quickly splashing some cold water on his unshaven face, he went back into his room and opened the bottom drawer of his nightstand. He dug around, past an old pair of mismatched socks and broken CD cases, until he found the round edge of the emergency whiskey, bought and hidden weeks ago. Shane unscrewed the cap, bringing the entire thing to his lips and taking a large swig. He was normally a beer drinker, stuck to his tried and true, but special circumstances called for the hard edge the liquor gave him. Beer made him mellow, turned the voices in his head fuzzy like bad reception. Whiskey made everything clear, went down with a slow blaze that dialed his senses up. Letting it trickle over him, muscles visibly relaxing, Shane stuffed the bottle back into the drawer and grabbed his keys. 

-

He raised his hand to knock on the door of the farmhouse, hesitating only for a moment before rapping it with his knuckles. He didn’t even know what Harlow’s days looked like, aside from the nights at the Saloon, had no idea if she’d even be home or not - even though it was Sunday, still early enough that the sun shone high above him. There was no answer, and he tried again, this time harder, two hard pounds against the door. 

Still silence. He stuffed his hands roughly into the pockets of his jacket, debating trying one more time, before turning away.  _ Of course.  _ Why would she bother? She had to have seen him walk up through the window and clearly didn’t want anything to do with him. It was about time anyway, that she had finally woken up and realized how pointless and crazy she’d been to start this stupid thing between him. 

He turned to cut through the fields, noticing distantly how much tidier everything looked, a pattern now to the snarl of trees and rocks. There was even a pond at the center of it all, lily pads scattered through its surface. 

“Shane?”

Shane froze. He saw Harlow, lying down on a blue checkered blanket, back resting against a tree trunk and half hidden underneath the tall blades of grass. One hand shielded her eyes from the sun, and she was wearing the white cotton dress again, which of course she would be. The stark white was even more pronounced against the golden sheen her skin had taken after hours working in the sun. He figured she’d be a burner, skin so pale it was sure to turn lobster red from any prolonged exposure, but that wasn’t the case. She almost glowed, lying there in the green grass, curls splayed out behind her and he couldn’t think of anything to say. Shane didn’t know how she could fucking  _ exist _ , how she could be the Harlow whose body he had almost memorized, and this perfect stranger at the same time. 

“Hey.” He finally said, focusing on a patch of grass by his feet. 

“What are you doing here?” 

She sounded wary, sitting up and drawing her knees to her chest. His mind was blank, all the rehearsed conversations he’d practiced the night before fleeing. A book had been casted to the side of the blanket -  _ The Spring Harvest Handbook  _ from what he could make of the title - and for a wild moment his stupid brain debated asking her about it, before he gave himself a mental shake.

“Can I sit?” 

Harlow nodded slowly, inching over to make room on the checkered blanket. He plunked down next to her, both now at the same level, making sure he was far enough away not to touch the bare skin of her legs. It was clear she wasn’t going to make this easy on him, staring straight ahead with an air of expectation. 

“I’m not good at this, okay?” Shane said roughly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “It - I don’t know how to do this.” 

“Do what?” Her voice was quiet. 

“Any of this - whatever we have going on - I don’t know how to do it.” 

“I’m not asking you to do anything.” 

And now she sounded tired. This was going even worse than he’d pictured in his head, and they’d only said a few words to each other. He had expected anger and fire, the same he’d seen before she had turned away from him at the carpenter's house. But she wasn’t even looking at him now, Harlow was just sitting there, shoulders slumped. 

“I know you aren’t, I just - I don’t -” Fuck, he was bad at this. He didn’t know why it was so hard for him, why the words just wouldn’t come out the way he wanted them to. He’d let himself go three years without any proper conversation, three years without talking to anyone who wasn’t his aunt or a little kid, and he knew it showed. _Fuck_ _this,_ he decided, standing up just as quickly as he had sat down. It was too much, he shouldn’t have come, he wasn’t ready for this. But he’d come all this way, come here to do one thing and he was going to get it over with. 

“I’m sorry, alright?” He forced out, glad that she had at least decided to look up at him. “Take it or leave it.” 

Harlow shot up to her feet at once, grabbing him by the shoulder and almost wheeling him around before he could walk away. 

“Take it or leave it?” She asked, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

And how could Shane explain to her that he couldn’t help it, couldn’t control the anger and the voice inside of him that made his words tumble out that way, jagged and bristling. But now that Harlow had spoken up, he couldn’t stop her.  _ This  _ was the Harlow that he had expected, squaring her shoulders back, eyes blazing like wildfire. 

“You know, I thought sleeping with each other meant we could at least be civil. Or at most, meant we could try to be - I don’t know -  _ friends _ , but it’s fucking impossible when you’re either avoiding me or biting my head off!” 

“I don’t need any friends!” He shot back, brusquely. 

“Oh please!” Harlow scoffed, two spots of red appearing on her cheeks, before changing her tone into a deeper, lower-pitched mock. “ _ I don’t need any friends  _ \- you sound like a teenager from a bad movie!” 

And that fucking stung. The blood in his ears thrummed and the whiskey had made it so that everything was sharper, louder. “I mean it. You can ask anyone in this town, I’m the last person you want to be friends with and I don’t need anyone’s pity.” 

“Give me a break, Shane,” Harlow cried, and he hated the way his stomach thrilled at just the way she said his name. “Maybe - if you ever pulled your head out of your ass long enough - you’d realize that just maybe I wasn’t trying to be your friend for you!”

Shane drew back, confused.  _ What was that supposed to mean?  _

She continued, repeating her words. “I don’t want anything from you. I just thought sleeping together wasn’t the only thing we had to do. Because maybe you hadn’t noticed, but you’re literally the only person I know in this whole fucking place.”

They were silent, Harlow breathing heavily, fists bunched up at her sides. She looked like she was bracing herself, for another sharp retort or for Shane to walk away, he didn’t know which. He couldn’t give her either.

“I’m - like I said, I’m sorry about before,” Shane muttered. “That’s why I came up here.” 

The fight was gone from her again, hands unclenching. She changed moods so quickly, went from hot to cold in a millisecond, it made his head spin. 

“It’s okay,” She said shortly, dropping back down to the blanket and pulling her knees back up to her chest. “I know when I’m being pushy.” 

“I mean it,” And he did, he had to make her understand that he did. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.” 

“Yeah, I heard you.” 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Shane swallowed, words getting stuck in his throat. “You’re the only person I know here too.” 

Harlow didn’t respond, eyes widening slightly, evidently surprised at the admission. For a long while she didn’t speak, only looked up at him. Shane wasn’t sure whether he should go or not, whether that had been the end of the conversation. He was saved the trouble when all she did was lay back against the checkered blanket, the way she’d been when he found her. 

She patted the spot next to her. 

Mouth going dry and praying she wouldn’t smell the whiskey on his breath, Shane dropped down and laid beside her. The lengths of their bodies touched, Harlow's shoulder pressing against his, her curls splayed out wide enough that he caught a recognizable whiff of the apple shampoo she used. He felt confused again, the edged awareness the whiskey had brought him starting to ebb away. Unsure of himself, he wanted to ask her whether this meant Harlow had accepted his apology, if things would go back to the way they were. Instead, staring up at pale wisps of clouds and feeling the warmth of her skin against his jacket, Shane shut his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Early (very introspective) update for y’all because I’ve been writing non stop and I’m so happy about the direction this story is taking. My aim is to do weekly updates, most likely on Thursdays. I'm also thinking about renaming the previous chapters to song lyrics since I usually write with a song stuck in my head that inspires the chapter and today's is a lyric (bonus points to anyone who can figure it out). Anyway, comments increase productivity - just an fyi. ;-)
> 
> (They’re also great if you have any suggestions or constructive criticism.)
> 
> Also if any of you are on the hunt for some new music to bop to during this quarantine, check out Two Beers In - Free Throw (the inspiration for this story and because it’s just SO Shane). 
> 
> Stay safe and healthy, everyone!


	6. Take Me As You Please

Shane was scrambling. He’d woken up to no alarm, the battery on his phone flashing red, and to Marnie shaking his arm gently and telling him it was almost eight. While JojaMart was as soul-sucking as ever, it not only gave him enough cash to help out at the ranch, it was also one of the only reasons he had to get up in the mornings. He had showered and gotten dressed in record time, hair still damp under the uniform hat, 

Stuffing a pizza pocket into the microwave and trying to shrug on a sleeve of his jacket at the same time, Shane caught the creak of the front door swinging open. He could hear Marnie stomping her feet off on the old mat before she called out.

“Look what I found sleeping in one of the coops this morning.” 

She strode into the kitchen and from behind her bounded in a small black coated dog, shiny and floppy eared, tongue lolling happily. Though Marnie loved dogs - loved all animals really - she hadn’t kept anything on the ranch but cows, sheeps and chickens since her old hound had passed a few years ago. 

“No collar?” Shane bent over, scratching the dog behind the ears. It looked young, still had that bouncing energy and cute roundness to its face, and rubbed its body against his legs. It preened against the touch like a cat, reaching up and resting its paws on his thighs. 

“Nothing. I can’t imagine where she must have come from, the poor thing.” 

The microwave beeped, signalling his breakfast was ready and he took it out, bouncing it in his hands to avoid the hot crust. He shoved almost half of the pizza pocket in his mouth, ignoring Marnie’s exasperated look - she was always on him about a ‘proper breakfast,’ whatever that meant - and blowing out short puffs as the first bite, all gooey cheese and hot marinara, threatened to burn his tongue. 

“What are you going to do with her?” He asked, swallowing. The dog was now looking at the rest of his pizza pocket, a tiny drop of drool gathering at the corner of its mouth, and he gently swatted her away.

Marnie looked pensive, now rummaging through one of the kitchen cabinets. “No idea. Maybe I’ll put a notice up in town.” 

With a small “aha” of satisfaction, she pulled out a large bag of dog food and a chipped bowl from behind one of the cupboards. The dog perked her ears up at the sound of the rustling of the bag, trotting over to Marnie as she opened it and poured some into the bowl. She set it down and they both watched as the little dog began to scarf down the food, crunching down on the hard kibble while the little nubby tail wagged. 

“Do you think the farmer would be interested in having a dog?” Marnie said randomly, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Uh, I don’t know.”

“Did she seem like a dog person?” 

“Maybe - I don’t really know.” Shane responded, growing a little alarmed. “Why are you asking me?” 

“Well, you drove up together to the mountains. What was she like? Did she seem like someone who’d like a dog?” 

“I don’t know, Marnie,” He muttered for a third time, glancing at his watch and thankful it was just about time for him to get going. If he lingered any longer, he was definitely going to be late and he knew Morris was itching for an excuse to cut his hours. Not to mention talking about Harlow with his aunt was up there on his list of things he did  _ not  _ want to do. “We didn’t really talk much.” 

“I’d go ask her myself but I’m uh meeting Lewis tonight and well -” She didn’t meet his eyes, a red stain inching up her neck. For all of Marnie’s meddling, she was still purposefully obtuse when it came to her affair with the mayor and Shane  _ definitely  _ did not want to talk about that. “Do you think you could go up there?” 

“Me?” 

“Just bring the dog up, see if she’s interested. I’m sure it’s lonely up on that big old farm and everyone knows a farmer should have a dog. This sweetheart is just what she needs.” He knew Marnie was going to keep pushing. Sure enough, as soon as the dog was done licking the empty bowl, she drew it over to her side and began rubbing the floppy ears.

“Oh yes, you’d do so well on those fields, wouldn’t you?” She cooed, glancing to see if Shane was watching. 

His aunt’s eyes were pleading, the dog was wagging its tail happily, and Shane’s ridiculous inability to say no materialized again. 

“Fine.” He muttered, grabbing his keys. “See you later.” 

-

Harlow dug her feet into the dirt, wrapping her arms around the middle of the thick log. She ignored the sting in her palms as some of the wood scraped at her skin. It was already later than she’d like, the sun already dipping below the horizon, but Harlow was  _ so _ close. She had practically finished clearing the eastern side of the field, nothing left but emerald-tipped grass and rich soil. All of the broken trees and rocks were finally gone, except for one stupid log that wouldn’t move no matter how hard she tried. Sure, it had taken her most of the season but she had almost done it, and this stupid piece of wood was the only thing standing in her way. It wasn’t even worth cutting down either, her axe getting stuck in the parts that were already rotting and caving in. Taking a deep breath, Harlow pulled, straining and trying to keep her feet planted, but the damned thing wouldn’t budge and she could feel herself toppling over. Frustrated, Harlow let go again. 

“Fuck!” She shouted, kicking it with the edge of her boot. 

“Bad time?” A quiet voice asked behind her. Harlow wheeled around, surprised to see Shane standing there. Two visits in one week? She hadn’t seen him since he had stopped by the farm, hadn’t had the nerve to go back to the Saloon and pick up whatever it was they had started. She wasn’t even sure whether he wanted to. Truce or not, there was still too much uncertainty where Shane was concerned, so much that still needed to be chipped away and Harlow really didn’t know where they stood at all. 

But they had taken a step forward, she admitted to herself, remembering the way they had laid down in the grass, shoulder to shoulder, neither of them saying a word. And now Shane looked almost - well not normal, there was still a tightness to the way he held himself, shoulders hunched and arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. But the harshness was gone, the angry clench of the jaw, the heavy wrinkle in his forehead. He was even looking at her for once. It was then she saw that a dog lumbered behind him, trailing along the end of a leash Harlow hadn’t noticed he held in his hands. 

“You brought your dog.” She observed as it sniffed the air. 

“She’s not mine.” 

“Stealing dogs?” 

“No - um, we - Marnie found her this morning in one of the coops.” He looked at the dog now, scratching the back of his neck like he always did, a habit she hadn’t realized she’d noticed. “We don’t know where she came from - she didn’t have a collar or anything, and we’ve got too many animals as is. Figured a farmer needed a dog and well...” 

It was the most he had ever said to her and it was unfortunate that Harlow couldn’t appreciate it properly because a very cute dog was now sniffing her turnips, a very cute dog that apparently he was gifting to her. 

“You want to give her to  _ me _ ?

“Uh, yeah. Well not me, exactly, Marnie does… but yeah.”

“Um…” 

Harlow couldn’t speak. A dog? She could barely afford to feed herself. And she’d never had any pets growing up, save a goldfish that had been won once at a fair when she was a kid. This had to be part of some weird, small town ritual, because who the hell just went around gifting dogs to people? The dog seemed to finally notice her, ambling up and sniffing at her ankle. She tentatively held out a hand and the dog immediately licked it, tail wagging at once, and butted its cold nose against her. 

“She likes you.” Shane commented, watching the exchange.

“She’s a she? Does she have a name?” 

“Not yet.” 

Shane finally seemed to deem it okay to release the leash and with a final lick, the dog took off, obviously relishing in the massive expanse of land and running in rapid circles around them. 

“I’ve never had a dog before,” Harlow admitted, watching the dog race past her and towards the pond in the distance. “She’s cute.” 

“First time for everything.” 

The dog had now jumped in the shallow pond, circles rippling across the surface as her head popped up. She waded into the middle, snapping at the air wildly and splashing water everywhere. 

“And you don’t know where she came from?” 

“No,” Shane said, shaking his head. “She just showed up on the ranch this morning, no name, no collar. Nothing.” 

She felt a strange twinge of sadness. She couldn’t imagine who wouldn’t have wanted to keep such a buoyant, happy little thing. The dog didn’t seem phased at all by its circumstances, wasn’t concerned that it didn’t belong anywhere, didn’t have a home or even have a name to ground itself. It was running out of the pond, shaking its fur and rolling around in the grass, evidently comfortable with the surroundings.  _ A farmer needs a dog,  _ she snorted internally, remembering the words Shane had said earlier.

“I guess I have a dog now.” Harlow said ruefully, plopping down on a soft patch of grass.

“What are you gonna name her?” 

Still watching the dog, who was now swimming in circles, she tried to squash down the small thrill of delight when she felt Shane slowly approach, dropping down and joining her.  _ Who are you?  _ Harlow thought to herself, propping her chin on her knee. The sun was almost entirely gone now, last rays of light swallowed by the dusk, and the throb in her muscles reminded her of the late hour. 

“She needs something bouncy,” She decided. “Maybe Flutter? That can be a dog name right?” 

“ _ Flutter _ ?” 

“She totally looks like a Flutter.” 

“Uh sure.”

“What about Jellybean?”

Shane shrugged his shoulders, but she could see the corners of his mouth twitch. 

“What would you name her then?” 

“I don’t know.” He mumbled, pulling at the grass. 

“C’mon, seriously, what would you pick?” She needled, resisting the urge to reach over and poke his knee. 

“Maybe - I don’t know, Rosie? Daisy?” 

It was like someone had flipped a switch inside of her. Harlow could feel herself grow more comfortable in the wake of Shane’s - well maybe  _ active  _ wasn’t the right word, but it was participation in the conversation nonetheless. She was still doing most of the talking, giving Shane just enough space to slip it into his usual one or two word responses, but she didn’t even mind. It was such a far cry from where they had started and Harlow almost couldn’t believe the change, the way that his words no longer held the same sharp, jagged edge they usually did. 

“Daisy?  _ Daisy?”  _ Harlow rolled her eyes, spurred on by her burgeoning confidence. “Like that’s not the most generic name ever.” 

She leaned back on her arms, trying to read his expression and hoping he wouldn’t be irritated by her forwardness, but Shane was shrouded in shadow. At least she could tell that the stiffness in his stance had lessened even further, no indication that he was annoyed. Cross legged next to her, still pulling at the grass, but his shoulders had dropped considerably. The little dog had heard them, perking its ears and trotting over at the sound of their words, nubby tail wagging ferociously. 

“C’mere, Daisy.” Shane said quietly, holding out his hand. 

Again, she felt the flash of pleasure. There was something so satisfying, watching Shane slowly lose all pretenses, rubbing the dog behind the ears. Why couldn’t he be like this all time? It was so easy, talking to him when there was no fear of being hurled barbed words or glares. She leaned forward again, resting her chin on her knees, watching him. The little dog was now tugging at one of his shoelace strings.

“I guess Daisy’s alright.” Harlow said reluctantly.

If she had felt the small spike of pleasure before, well that was nothing compared to the feeling when she saw him smile at her, small and genuine and gone in flash.

-

If there was one day of the year that Shane couldn’t stand, downright  _ hated _ , it was the Flower Dance. Of all the old fashioned, antiquated customs the town held onto - and there were  _ many  _ \- it had to be the worst. Everything in the clearing, as he walked in holding Jas’s hand tightly, from the sturdy oak trees to the marbled white tables that lined the dance floor, was covered in arrangements of colorful flowers. Pink and red petals scattered the ground, sticking to his shoes. Townspeople dressed in various shades of sickly pastel. He was even more self conscious than usual, forced by Jas into “something pretty, Uncle Shane!” that meant ironed down slacks and a too tight button down.

The Egg Festival was different. It was one of the only things Shane had actually enjoyed since moving to Pelican Town. Chickens were less complicated than people. He, Marnie and Jas spent the time leading up to it preparing the hens and saving the best looking eggs for the hunt. It was gratifying in a way, knowing that all the attention would be on the chickens and their hard work. But this? This was the opposite. Everyone was  _ watching _ , flaunting around like it was the event of the century, clinking their stupid glasses of bubbly. And the worst part was he could never get out of it. Jas loved this shit, talked about nothing else for weeks and preened under the attention as she and Marnie worked tirelessly on her dress. She was so proud, standing there in her little pink frills, and Shane still wasn’t that much of an asshole to try and ruin the things that made her happy. 

“Hi Shane!” Emily said happily, walking by him in a bright yellow number that made his eyes hurt. 

He nodded back awkwardly, holding onto Jas’s tiny hand like it was a lifeline. They stood towards the edge of the clearing, away from all of the people milling in the center. 

“Can I go find Vincent?” Jas looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Miss Penny said she was going to teach us both a new dance!” 

Inwardly, he groaned. This was all her idea and now she wanted to leave him alone, feed him to the wolves dressed in their Sunday best. Traitor. But like Marnie, saying no to Jas was damn near impossible and instead, he forced a smile. 

“Sure thing, kiddo.” 

As she took off, Shane scanned the field for the punch bowl he knew Pam spiked with something stiff. It was the only way he was going to make it through this thing. He saw Emily’s bitchy sister, Haley, throwing simpering looks at the buff kid who was always throwing around a gridball as she hung off his arm. Even the quiet redhead who lived across from them, Leah - typically as isolated as he was - was mingling amongst the crowd with a tall flute of something sparkling in her hand. He just didn’t  _ get _ it, the hype behind this stupid festival. Only the younger crowd danced, encircled by the rest of the townspeople who seemed to get a kick out of them being paraded around like mules with stupid expressions of delight. 

He walked towards the punch, casting his eyes downward to avoid anyone who might be dumb enough to talk to him. When he finally reached the table and grabbed himself a cup, most of the townspeople had made their way into the established dance floor and were blessedly far away from him. His eyes glanced around, catching Jas and her friend chasing each other to the side. Pierre stood by his usual stand, chest puffed up proudly as he fiddled with a bouquet of flowers. Harlow walking in through the archway of blossoms. He stared, watching her walk in. Her silk dress shimmered, catching the waves of sunlight and turning them jade. She had done something different with her, curls down to her shoulders, brushed out so that they framed her face loosely. Harlow was… well fuck, she was beautiful. He wasn’t the only one who had noticed her arrival. Shane could see other townsfolk, some whispering behind their hands and others smiling brightly, all looking at her too. She scanned the clearing, searching for something, until their eyes connected. A small smile tugged at her lips and Harlow began walking in his direction. He sipped at the punch again, a swift upsurge of nerves, because while everyone was staring at her, Harlow’s eyes were on him. 

—

“Harlow!” 

Before she could reach Shane, who had looked almost unrecognizable in a smart looking shirt and slacks, Harlow turned at the sound of her name. She saw Abigail dressed in a floaty black dress, standing to the side.

“Hey!” Abigail called, waving her hands ferociously in the air. Next to her stood two guys, one with a long sheet of black hair, also dressed in all black, and the other tall and blonde, pulling at the tie around his neck.The one in black held a cigarette between his fingers, taking slow drags, and instinctively Harlow wrinkled her nose. 

“Hi,” She waved back, trying not to show her disappointment and walking over to them. 

“Sam, Sebastian, this is Harlow.” Abigail pointed, “Harlow, Sam and Sebastian.” 

“Good to meet you,” Sam, the blonde one, grinned at her before and Sebastian offered nothing more than nod, raising his cigarette in a half-hearted wave. 

“You too.” 

Sam sneezed, wiping his face against the sleeve of his white button down. “Man, every year!” 

“So what’s the deal with this Flower Dance? Is it just like one big town party?” She asked Abigail, nodding towards the crowd in the center of the forest. It had been a last minute decision, finding the flyer left in her mailbox, advertising the festival in curved script. She’d missed the events of the past couple of months but the excuse to dress up, talk to someone who wasn’t Daisy, and yes, maybe see Shane had finally persuaded her to show her face. 

“Kind of. Some of us dance with a partner in front of everyone and it’s so embarrassing,” Abigail scowled. “Mom makes me do it.” 

“That… does sound pretty bad, not gonna lie.” 

“Consider yourself very, very lucky.” Sam said, before throwing her another easy grin. 

“So you all do it?” Harlow asked him. 

He nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been trying to convince the mayor to let us play our music instead but he keeps shooting me down.”

“You play music?”

“You’re looking at the lead singer of the Squid Kids, thank you very much.” 

“Sam, that’s not our name!” Abigail interjected, rolling her eyes. 

“Abi, please,” Sam held up a hand, winking at Harlow and ignoring Abigail’s huff of protest. “No take backs.” 

“What kind of music do you play?” Harlow questioned, laughing a little at his antics. 

“Um, our sound is still to be determined. I’m calling it experimental noise rock for now.” 

Their conversation was cut short at the sound of a ringing chime. 

“That’s our cue,” Sam groaned. “See you later, farmer girl.” 

Harlow waved them off, mouthing ‘good luck’ to Abigail as they shuffled off in the direction of the chime. She stood to the side, watching as most of the townspeople made way to encircle the group in the center of the forest. She tried surreptitiously to find Shane, skimming the crowd, but he was nowhere to be found.

-

The old dock had become something of a haven for Shane since he’d moved to Pelican Town. When the cheer of the Saloon, too bright and lively, just wasn’t cutting it, he’d come. Lugging a case of beers, he’d drag it to the end of the dock and make himself comfortable. Cloaked in the heavy blanket of night, a soft hum of stirring evergreens and the lapping of the lake were his only company. It was perfect for tonight, Flower Dance finally over and done with. Summer was almost here and the night’s air was heavier than usual. Beads of sweat gathered at the base of his neck as he finally sat down, leaning back against one of the wooden posts. The crack of a can opening broke the silence for only a second and Shane closed his eyes, downing half of it in a single swallow.

It was one of those nights. In his mind, he saw Harlow again, standing next to the purple haired girl and Sam, his coworker, sipping her flute and smiling freely in a way she’d never done with him. It had been strange, seeing her surrounded by so many people. Their nights together had been solitary, a weird entity that only existed between them and the regulars at the Saloon who had seen them together, solidarity keeping them quiet.  _ You’re the only fucking person I know.  _ She had that to him but he had seen for himself that it wasn’t true anymore.

It was about time too. Harlow would soon move on from him, that much was clear - if she hadn’t already. And she was better off. If it continued on the way it had, spending every night intertwined, Harlow would soon discover how pathetic he really was. Almost 29 years old, and all Shane had was a dead end job, a kid he still didn’t know how to care for and a hole in the pit of his chest. 

One can turned into four, and instead of being dampened, the dark thoughts still swirling underneath the surface. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, listening to the water and wondering, for a moment, what would happen if he let it drag him under. Then the trickling of the water wasn’t the only noise in the air. Slow footsteps echoed against the wooden floorboards. When he opened his eyes again, Harlow was in front of him, appearing so suddenly that he wasn’t sure if he was awake or not. 

“Hi.” She said, just as surprised, taking a few more steps towards him. The hair was back piled on top of her head, silk green dress gone and replaced with a thick sweater and the worn jeans he was used to seeing her in. 

“Up late, huh?” Was the only thing he could think to say. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” She responded, settling down across from him. She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing them up and down.  _ Always cold _ , he thought to himself, remembering the way she sometimes apologized after touching him with hands that were almost frozen. This was dangerous. Shane was past the point of being in total control of himself, had gone too many beers over and he felt the thoughts again, bitter and rising up to the surface.

“Here.” He popped open another one of the cans and held it out to her. After a second’s hesitation, she took it from him. 

“Why are you out here, Shane?” She asked quietly, taking a small sip.  _ Shane.  _ Why did she have to say his name like that, all casual and intimate like he meant something. 

“Life.” He answered sardonically and it was like an invisible force was propelling him forward, dragging the darkness out of him and making the words spill out. “You ever feel like... no matter what you do, you’re gonna fail? Like you’re stuck in some miserable abyss and you’re so deep, you can’t even see the light of day.” 

She just watched him, taking another slow sip.

“It’s just like… no matter how hard I try, I know - I  _ know _ I’m not strong enough to come out of that hole.” 

Still, she said nothing and only drank the beer faster until she crushed it in a fist. 

“C’mon, let’s go.” 

Harlow stood up, looking small but determined in the thick knit of her sweater, and took him by the hand. He was too loose now, his body barely cooperating, and Shane could only focus on the coolness of her palm against his. Their feet crunched in the already dewy grass and the faint glow of the moon, shrouded behind grey wisps, lit their path. They continued walking until Shane realized, in a momentary clarity, where they were going when they passed the ranch house. Her hand still held his tightly as they continued up the stone path, the silhouette of the farmhouse in the distance. Harlow opened the door softly, but the sharp barking that greeted them startled him. Daisy scampered up to them, wagging and licking at their hands. 

“I’m still not used to that.” Harlow laughed, rubbing the dog’s head. 

The house was bigger now. Where there had been a bed, there was now a squashy couch and chipped coffee table. Potted plants and stacks of books littered the floor. The room opened up to a kitchen on the left, shiny and new and apparently unused. But now Daisy had made her way back onto her little bed in the corner and Harlow had grabbed his hand again, shyly, leading him through another door. 

“Is this okay?”

And he could only nod as she turned to him, pulling him towards her. His heart was hammering, this wasn’t supposed to be happening again, and yet Harlow tilted her face up expectantly. Shane was powerless against his body, could only reach down and meet her lips with his own. They hadn’t touched each other in weeks but the certainty in her kiss was unmistakable, tongue pushing past his teeth at once and tangling against his. They moved together and it was like no time had passed at all. Harlow pushed him away for a moment, pulling the sweater over her head to reveal nothing underneath. Her skin still glowed like before, golden and milky, nipples tightening up. He was hard instantly, couldn’t help it, at the sight of her illuminated in the moonlight in nothing but worn out jeans. They looked at each other for only a pause and then drew close again. Fingers pulled at the hem of his shirt, pulling upwards and he reached blindly for the buttons on her jeans. Clothes were tossed away, they tumbled into the bed and Shane lost himself again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew as soon as I set a deadline for my updates, I was jinxing myself and lo and behold - I did. I'm writing constantly but will try to keep to Thursdays if life doesn't get it the way. Not super thrilled with this chapter, I can't figure out why but I was excited to write a little Sam because I LOVE HIM. I hope everyone is safe and healthy and as always, drop a comment if you can. :)


End file.
